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This Love part VIII The heart is drained and the ink hasn't dried yet. Pull the shades lower. It's private, don't look over my shoulder. Too late to hide it, it's spilling, it's brimming over the sink. In wild convulsions, it surges, it floods the buildings, the schools, the churches, the squares, the courtyards and Eden's orchards. I can't contain it, this love is gorgeous!